One Year Later
by Dr. Phoenix
Summary: Adam's point of view describing the one-year anniversary of the day Belle first came to the castle. Many things have changed, but some are surprisingly similar. Based on 1991 version.


This evening marks the anniversary of the day I met Belle. We've come a long way since I took her prisoner a year ago, but I am still reminded of the spell several times a week. My servants see to it!

The chef announced that dinner this evening was Wounded Beast.

I frowned. "I thought the name of the dish was…"

"It was!" he agreed. "But it's called 'Wounded Beast' now!"

The dish is some manner of meat in red sauce, prepared with ingredients that symbolize the story of how I saved Belle's life…or something like that. Naturally, I don't approve at all of this little nickname, but of course, the servants don't care.

As we sat down to supper, Lumière and Cogsworth actually stood on the table. Belle's eyes widened in bewilderment.

"What are you doing?" she queried.

Cogsworth sighed wearily. "We lost a bet."

The two then began to sing about being someone's guest. They even danced with the food before we ate it.

After her initial astonishment, Belle started laughing. When I asked her about it, she told me what had happened the night we first met after she refused my order to come to dinner.

"Lumière, your disobedience was one of the most insolent cases of defiance in the history of France," I stated. "Thank you. I'm glad you and the others made Belle feel welcome here."

He shrugged. "I had to. Otherwise, we would all be dead now!"

I later found one of the head caretakers of my forest in my favorite chair. His sister was kneeling beside him as he stretched his injured foot toward the fire.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

"I still can't get my boot off," he replied.

"Let me see." She carefully took his ankle in her hands. "Loup, the sole is completely worn through! Your foot's bleeding from the snow!"

" _Ce n'est rien_ ," he answered. "I can buy another pair next month."

She removed her own boots. "Take mine."

Loup shook his head. "A gentleman does not indulge in selfish comfort while a lady goes barefoot."

"I'm not making a suggestion. I am telling you that you will wear my boots!"

"Louve…"

She drew her sword and slit the boot. The X shape of the permanently fractured bones was clearly visible through the stocking.

"You look good in red," Louve complimented.

(If I recall correctly, "to look good in red" means "to bear injuries bravely," but it's hard to keep track of expressions the servants invent. There's one they use that's something like "Take it better than the master," sometimes "Better than the Beast" for short, and it basically means "Try not to cringe and yell like a coward when the wound is cleaned.")

At this point, I wandered over to where Loup sat. He glanced my direction, but the amber flame in his eyes let me know in no uncertain terms that he wasn't about to get out of my chair.

"We've been human again for nearly a year now," I began. "Don't you think it's time you told me what you were during the spell?"

 _"Non_ ," he responded. After a pause, he added, "I'll tell you…when I can…when the time is right…but not today. It's the anniversary of when you first met your wife. It should be a day of roses and happy memories."

"Very well," I agreed, "but it's hard to see you injured this badly when I don't even know why."

Loup shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"You can tell me," I coaxed. "We've all made a lot of mistakes in the past. We've all come a long way since then. We're all adults. I can handle it."

He sighed. "You and I fought once…long ago."

I frowned. "I did that to you?"

"Somewhat. You got a few good hits in, and I landed against the ground at a bad angle."

"I don't remember ever fighting with you." After several seconds, I added, "Then again, I've probably done a lot of terrible things I don't remember."

Loup nodded, pulling off his stocking, which had worn away so badly that it covered only the top half of his foot, leaving the sole to bleed from the snow since the bottom of his boot was nonexistent. The bruises of his deformed ankle from his previous injury were horrendous.

"Who won?" I asked.

"I had you nearly unconscious. You fell helplessly to the ground, and I was satisfied. Don't think for a moment that I couldn't have killed you if I wanted. It would have been too easy!" He began pressing and rubbing his ankle, trying to ease the pain he was fighting so hard to hide.

"Then clearly, victory was yours," I commented.

"Pyrrhic victory, I suppose. Did you know there's nothing the royal physicians can do for this?" Before I could reply, he remarked, "At least they were able to help the others. That's all that mattered."

"Whose fault was it?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"If you want the truth, either we're both to blame, or neither of us are. I should have known better than to behave as cruelly as I had been commanded when I first became a servant. You should have known better than to order me to behave that way."

"And your sister's arm?"

"I was kicked by a horse," Louve replied. "You'll be surprised what we try to eat during times of starvation."

Belle entered the room. "I couldn't help but overhear that…" She gasped when she saw the injured ankle, but she quickly regained her composure. "What were you fighting over?"

"Some law I didn't want to follow," Loup answered. "King Adam lost his temper. It doesn't matter anymore. We both got what we wanted, but we both had to suffer for it."

"Where did this happen?"

"A clearing not too far from here."

"Close to where the Beast saved my life?"

Loup gave up any attempts to ease the pain of his ankle and began trying to cram it back into a boot. "Easy walking distance…even for me."

Belle put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't you see that Adam and I want to be your friend? We're asking because we want to make amends for any wrong we've done, including this injury."

Loup said nothing, but his eyes blazed amber. I knew he was fighting back a biting remark.

Louve came to his rescue. "Yes, my brother and I see that you're trying to befriend us. In fact, we wish to show you something."

Suspecting nothing, Belle followed her outside. Moments later, I heard my wife scream, so I rushed through the castle doors to see what was wrong. As soon I stepped outside, several of the forest workers seized me and quickly pinned me to the ground. They then proceeded to cram snow down the back of my shirt, a procedure they had already done to Belle.

Loup himself limped outside and used a dagger to cut off my right sleeve in one quick motion. He held up the sleeve triumphantly, and the other caretakers of the forest cheered.

While Loup made plans to attach my sleeve to his stocking, thus having his foot completely covered once more, Belle and I went to the West Wing for some dry clothes. However, when I arrived in my room, I saw a single rose wilting under a bell jar.

I stuck my head through the door and demanded to know who was responsible for this outrage. Of course, none of the servants answered. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear it had been a group effort.

Mrs. Potts had some hot tea waiting for us after we changed clothes, and Belle brought a book from the castle library and read aloud as the servants gathered around to listen. Maurice had fallen asleep in his chair, as becomes common to those blessed with longevity. Maestro Fife sent tender glances to Angelique, but she seemed completely oblivious. Webster, who always enjoyed a good book, had settled comfortably in front of the fireplace beside his good friend, La Plume. Lumière and Cogsworth quit bickering long enough to hear the story, and I wondered if either of them would ever have the courage to propose to their respective love interests. The forest caretakers were unable to join us, for they had chores to finish before the next snowstorm made working in the woods nearly impossible.

I thought how much this night was like when Belle and I first met. All the servants were here, helping us bond. They had sung and danced during dinner, and there was a rose in the West Wing. I thought the only thing better would be if I surprised Belle with something in the library the following day, but I wasn't quite sure what.

However, as we lay down to sleep, Belle asked, "What if they aren't dead?"

"What if who's not dead?" I fluffed my pillow.

"The wolves who attacked us."

"The forest workers say they are."

"What if they're just lying to make us feel better, and the wolves are still out there?"

I sighed. "Belle, you're being silly."

She laughed. "You're right, Adam." She cuddled close. "I love you."

 _"Moi, je t'aime aussi_ ," I assured her, taking her in my arms.

My wife easily fell asleep, but it's an hour past midnight, and I'm still awake, tormented by her seemingly rhetorical question. What if she's right? What if the wolves aren't dead?

As I once more rise, careful not to wake Belle, and pace the corridors for the seventeenth time, I mutter under my breath to myself, "I'd give my right arm to know where those wolves are now…well, maybe not quite that…"


End file.
